Resentment
by Now I am mae
Summary: Being constantly inferior to someone is difficult to tolerate. Especially if the person is your younger sister.


The day I heard I was going to have a sister was the happiest day of my life. Although I was young, I can remember the excitement as if it was yesterday and amidst the warm flow of memories, I remember my fervent promises that I was going to be the greatest big sister ever. Unfortunately, some promises were never meant to be kept.

When my sister was finally born I was three and I recall the squalling red-haired creature that had invaded my life. Yet despite the constant screaming, I found her fascinating. The plump rose coloured lips, the pale creamy skin, the shock of red hair above her tiny head and her toothless grin that entranced me. For the first 7 years of her life, she was my greatest accomplishment. She followed me around like a duckling, she asked me questions about the world and I, her older, wiser sister was able to answer them. Our parents loved us dearly and I was truly happy.

Then she met_ him. _He was a dark boy with greasy hair and unkempt clothes and the blackest eyes I had ever seen. Looking back, I recognise that the reason for my hatred wasn't because of his social background but because I saw something different in him… something dangerous. Perhaps I could have stopped her immediate fascination with the boy but by the time I realised I was too late. The wheels of fate had turned and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

As my little sister began to distance herself from me, I tried to turn it into a conscious decision of my own. _I_ was the one growing up and moving on. _I_ was the one who was becoming more independent. _I_ was the one who had decided that my beloved little sister was not cool enough for me. I began to use normality as a shield against those who had deemed themselves cleverer, or more beautiful than myself. Thus the haughty attitude was born.

My Mum was a seamstress from Manchester with blonde hair and blue eyes. My Dad had been a factory worker from London who through diligence and stubbornness had managed to use his intelligence to run several businesses and woo my mother. He was a tall man with red hair and brown eyes, lanky and kind. They were both very happy together and they adored us. When it came to looks, I had inherited my Fathers thin lips, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and a lanky frame. My sister however had inherited our Great Grandmothers emerald green eyes and long red hair. It is difficult not to feel jealous of a girl who you felt surpassed you in every single way. She was a little girl yet it was not hard to see that she would become a beauty; she was witty and had a fiery temper that just made her more endearing. She had an aura about her that drew people in like moths to a flame and then there was me, the sour, average older sister.

I suppose that the real conflicts didn't begin until she discovered that she was_ special_… That she was a witch. Again, the barrier separating her and me was becoming more and more tangible as I began going through puberty and began becoming more womanly and more temperamental. On the day of Lily's 11th birthday, she found a letter and accompanying it a teacher that called herself Professor McGonagall. That was the day that signified her ascension to a goddess in our parent's eyes. She became their pride and joy. The first witch in the family, the special one and there I was, staring on at the scene with jealous eyes and a jealous heart. My first period, _my _ascent into womanhood was spent alone as Lily and my parents were out shopping at the time. In an act of desperation, I sent Professor Dumbledore a letter, a plea to be allowed to be special, to be important; to be lucky…but no such blessing would be given to me. My embarrassment caused my resentment towards wizard kind and their righteous superiority to increase and as Lily left to become more special, more magical I was left alone on the platform with a bitter taste in my mouth and a vow that I would never desire to be like _them_ again.

Life at home became more difficult. It was no longer possible to be average without Lily appearing to disregard my achievements and smirk at me as if to say "I am better than you…I will always be better than you". My parents pinned her school reports on the wall. Read out her letters to me with great gusto and when Lily wrote about a spectacular piece of homework, they would call up our relatives to boast about her.

I was lonely. I knew about a fantastic new world but I was unable to take part in it. I was aware of magic but unable to tell anyone about it. It was torture and as Lily blossomed into a beautiful flower, I wilted and entered adulthood as a secretary in an average, normal company with little pay. My parents were hardly surprised, how could _I_ ever rise to the level of Lily? I wasn't special enough or beautiful enough. I rented out a small flat and only saw my parents when necessary, at Christmas and Easter usually. Lily never contacted me and this just increased my bitterness. I felt that she should be the one to stretch out the hand of friendship, to apologise and tell me that I was her sister and she loved me. No such thing happened and so when a man at work asked me out on a date, I said yes.

Vernon Dursley was wonderful. He was a large man with a large laugh and viewed himself as the most important and cleverest man alive. He had normal ambitions and desired a family that would support him. Best of all, he loved me. Finally, I was being wooed and looked after and told that I was more important than anyone else. He asked for my hand in marriage, and at the tender age of 21, I accepted. My parents weren't delighted but they accepted the engagement with forced smiles.

Lily came to the engagement party and I remember the scene: A well lit room, pristine and neat with tastefully arranged bouquets of flowers situated at the entrance. A gaggle of middle class party guests, nattering and gossiping and crowding around me, were judging the cost of my ring. Vernon was stood tall, talking with like-minded people, laughing heartily, drinking copiously, and joking about the people they had managed to fire. Lily entered then and made a bee-line for me. My companions looked at her with pursed lips, judgemental faces and stepped away from her as she approached me. I remember my palms sweating, the scent of flowers overwhelming me and an inexplicable fear striking me. She seemed out of place in my perfectly constructed world and her strangeness was noticed by my friends. I recall feeling a sense of victory, not everyone would bow down to her, and not everyone would be drawn to her. Here in my world, the queen bees were jealous people who watched on as life passed them by, trapped by broken dreams.

Twisting my engagement ring around my finger, I gave her a curt nod as she extended her arms towards me but I stiffened. She noticed this and stepped back, looking hurt. I was on the verge of hugging her, of telling her I loved and missed her but as she opened her mouth to speak, the moment was lost. The conversation was awkward and wooden and I was almost relieved to see a messy haired young man enter the room. Lily beamed at him when he came in and beckoned him over to be introduced to me and my parents. My Mother noticed the engagement ring first and Lily looked down bashfully as my mother cooed over her. My Father clearly approved and smiled proudly at her as my Mother fussed over wedding plans. I was struck dumb. My lips were parted as I registered the scene. I was being ignored, again and it hurt. Lily said she would like me to be her bridesmaid but I simply turned around and walked away. The conversation was too painful, too soon. I never was brave enough to tell her what I thought and despite knowing that it was not done with malice, I felt betrayed and as I returned to my group of women who were destined to become nasty housewives and controlling Mothers, I persuaded myself that normality was the best cure for freakishness.

She did not receive an invitation to my wedding and although she tried, I never attended hers either. My parents were furious over this and told me I was being childish, stupid but I did not retract my decision. When my parents died, I refused to share the same pew in the church, convinced that it was her fault they were dead. She didn't deny it and as wizards crowded their graves, I left her to her guilt.

I found out I was pregnant soon after my marriage. I was delighted to finally being able to raise a family of my own but my pregnancy was a difficult one. Thin, I was not equipped with the large hips that women were given to be equipped for childbirth. Dudley was born 3 weeks early and I nearly died during the birth. I was told I could never again have children. Lily came to visit me in hospital as I lay there, weak and desperately sad. I had been carrying twins but birth complications had meant that my little Rosie had died. Lily, sitting with me through the pain comforted me whilst I cried in anguish and she cried with me until her husband came in and looking me straight in the eye, asked me if I was aware of Lily's pregnancy. It was the cruellest thing he ever did to me and as Lily admitted guiltily that she had just discovered she was pregnant, I just looked at her with empty, dead eyes and asked for her to leave. She complied silently. I never saw her alive again.

When I found out Lily had died I didn't cry. Jealousy and anger, still deeply rooted within me, was too difficult to destroy, too powerful and I blamed her specialness, her magic and a foolish boy called Severus Snape who had stolen her away from me so many years before. When Harry arrived, all he did was serve as a reminder of all my mistakes, of all of hers and of the wizarding world which had marked her out, which had killed her. It was at that moment that I wept, seethed, screamed and vowed that Harry Potter would never be subjected to the cruelty of a world that caused two flowers to grow apart and wilt before their time.

**A/N:**

**I wrote this in an attempt to understand Petunia. I feel sympathy for her in the books and I believe that J.K Rowling makes her seem like a jealous person without any reason to be. But upbringing is essentially what causes a person to develop as they do and constantly being inferior to someone will create a bitter person. I do not think that lily is a bad person but since this was written in Petunia's point of view, her views have not been taken into account.**


End file.
